


predictions

by isayyoucrazy



Series: do your research [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John finds out about Serbia, M/M, My poor babies, it turns out all right in the end though, these idiots are so in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 05:27:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20252902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isayyoucrazy/pseuds/isayyoucrazy
Summary: — john finds out about serbia.





	predictions

Sherlock knows what will happen when he and John end up in bed together after all they’ve been through the past three years. John will kiss him, as slowly as if it’s the first time they’ve done this, and they will make their way down the hallway to Sherlock’s bedroom, still attached at the lips, and they will fall onto the bed as soon as John strips it of all but the fitted sheet. John will undress Sherlock, admire his alabaster skin in the moonlight streaming through the window, and then he will take Sherlock, rocking into his willing body tenderly, brushing kisses against his brow the way he did the night he took Sherlock’s virginity.

And when they tire of the soft, gentle coupling, John will flip Sherlock over. And he will see.

He will see everything that Sherlock has tried to keep from him since he returned, and he will pity Sherlock and treat him like glass that may shatter at any moment. He will most likely cry, the silly romantic, and Sherlock will have no idea what to do so he’ll creep away, and John will be left to think that Sherlock doesn’t care about him at all.

The end result wouldn’t be so bad if John knew just how deep Sherlock’s feelings run, but he doesn’t. Because Sherlock doesn’t know how to show them, and he’s afraid John isn’t even looking.

* * *

It turns out to be almost exactly like Sherlock predicts. They return from a post-case celebration dinner at Angelo’s, where they had been pried with delicious food and wine and dessert, all free of charge for Angelo’s “favourite couple.” John puts the kettle on to make tea, but he quickly forgets about it in favour of snogging Sherlock senseless.

They tumble into bed still locked at the lips. It’s not late enough for there to be moonlight, but John takes his time by the light coming from the lamp beside the bed to stare into Sherlock’s eyes, cupping his face in his steady doctor hands, brushing his thumbs across Sherlock’s impossible cheekbones. (_“Improbable, John! They exist, therefore they are possible.”_)

John preps Sherlock carefully, twisting his fingers just so in order to bring Sherlock pleasure but not applying enough pressure to push him over the edge. He insists that Sherlock ride him since it’s been so long, so he can control the speed, and Sherlock straddles John’s lap without protest, lowering himself down until they’re joined at that most intimate place.

It’s tender and sweet and perfect, until John runs his hands up Sherlock’s back.

* * *

“I don’t see why you had to stop,” Sherlock whines for the fourth time. “It was going fine.”

John is pacing at the foot of the bed, still fully nude, not paying his flagging erection even the slightest attention. “Christ, Sherlock, of course you bloody don’t! But other people have moral consciences, you know, where _giant fucking scars on their partner’s backs are involved_!” He whirls to face Sherlock. “I’m going to put on the kettle and you’re going to put on a dressing gown and come out to the sitting room, and we’re going to _talk_.”

Ten minutes later, the two men are sitting in their respective chairs, sipping their tea and steadfastly not looking at one another.

When John speaks, his voice is low and full of sorrow. “Why didn’t you tell me — when you came back? Did you still not trust me to know these things about you?”

“You didn’t take well to my return,” Sherlock points out, his gaze fixed on the skull on the mantel. “I wasn’t sure what your reaction would be to find out that my time away hadn’t been spent idly.”

“About that,” John begins, then pauses. “What exactly happened while you were away?”

Sherlock took a deep breath and says, “Moriarty had three snipers on the people he knew I would miss most the day I — when I fell. One on Lestrade. One on Mrs. Hudson. One on —” his Adam’s apple bobs “— one on you.”

His voice cracks multiple times as he relates the events that had happened during the two years he’d been away.

When he finishes retelling the story, John is closer than he had been before — perched on the armrest of Sherlock’s chair. His figure is blurry, and it’s only when John reaches out and brushes his cheek that Sherlock even realises his vision is impaired because he’s crying. How dull of his transport to show visible evidence of his inner emotions.

He looks up at John and is shocked to see tears forming in the doctor’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sherlock,” John chokes, “I had no idea you Fell to save Mrs. H and Greg and — and me.”

“I would do anything for you,” Sherlock says, almost as if he’d just realised it.

Then they’re kissing again, and John takes Sherlock back to bed and they pick up where they’d left off. As they cling together in the afterglow, John whispers, “I think I love you, Sherlock Holmes.”

Sherlock is asleep, but even John knows by this point that if he were awake, he would say, “And I you, John Watson.”


End file.
